


To the Salt, Salt Sea

by j_quadrifrons



Series: to the seas do not go [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Enemies to Fiancés to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Marriage of Spite, Multi, Pining, Polyamory, Romantic Comedy, This Soap Opera You Call An Archive, World Saved by the Power of Love, but informed by episode 160, canon-divergent from episode 94, redemption arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29492304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_quadrifrons/pseuds/j_quadrifrons
Summary: It all worked out in the end: Peter was going to marry Elias, leaving Jon free to date Martin (although disappointing Tim, who was neck-deep in wedding planning) and everyone could then concentrate on preventing the end of the world, or whatever else it was they were planning.Then Peter found out what else Elias was planning.A romantic comedy in several parts.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims, Elias Bouchard/Martin Blackwood, Elias Bouchard/Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims/Peter Lukas, Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Peter Lukas/Jonathan Sims, Peter Lukas/Martin Blackwood
Series: to the seas do not go [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2166252
Comments: 14
Kudos: 60





	1. Prologue

"Oh, Martin, thank you for the files, that was…very helpful." Jon bites the inside of his lip. He's not good at walking the line between "professional" and "talking to his boyfriend," he regrets it every time. Especially when Martin smiles back at him, happier than anyone has a right to be in the Magnus Institute, and all of Jon's insides melt.

"Yeah, of course," he says, blushing a little with a thrill Jon knows is equal parts his own awkwardness at a situation they still haven't quite figured out yet, and the reaction he always has to Jon's praise. The temptation to take advantage of that is deeply inappropriate for a workplace setting. "I'll give you the rest of them tomorrow morning," he adds.

Jon thanks him automatically before he catches up to the rest of the sentence. "Wait, what? What rest of them?"

"Wellll," Martin says, looking far too pleased with himself, "we did have plans tonight. And I didn't want you to be here until two in the morning just because you got a nice juicy pile of research to dig into. So if you'll go out to dinner with me, I'll give you the rest of the files you asked for."

Jon is aware that he's blushing scarlet by now but there's absolutely nothing he can do about it. Maybe the others will assume it's annoyance. "You're aware that bribing your supervisor with personal favors is in direct violation of the employee handbook," he says, mostly because it's the kind of sentence he doesn't have to think in order to construct.

Martin just snorts. "So's just about everything we do, including our actual jobs." He leans over the desk and kisses Jon on the mouth - a brief kiss, certainly, but still entirely inappropriate for work. "I'll drag you out at six, yeah?"

"I–yes, fine," Jon says, his scripts having deserted him. Martin beams, and he melts a little more. "Christ, get a _hold_ of yourself," he mutters, straightening his spine decisively. "You do still have work to do."

But he also has dinner plans, and he allows that to settle warm and happy in his chest as he goes back to it.

* * *

The weekly report Elias receives from the Metropolitan Police is always interesting reading. They have a fair, if not entirely accurate, idea of the kinds of things that are of particular interest, but they err on the side of inclusion, and even the misfires are worth at least a little attention. The Eye would never scorn a secret, after all, no matter how petty - and Elias is kept informed of a great many things which never quite made it into the papers.

It's normally a very well-organized document as well, though today he finds a line at the very end of the sheaf of carefully compiled papers that is decidedly out of place. It's terse and almost innocuous, as if some poor soul had imagined that he wouldn't see it there.

 _P. Lukas: Fine paid, charges dropped_ , it reads.

Elias sighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's finally happening: the sequel to Come Change Your Ring With Me, because I can't leave well enough alone! At the moment I'm planning on updating every Tuesday, for the next (approximately) eight weeks, although that may drop to every two weeks if necessary. I'll continue to add tags as things progress, though I don't at this time expect the rating to change. 
> 
> A little heads up: if you were happy with the way the pairings fell out in the end of Come Change Your Ring, you may not care for this - endgame this time is Lonely Eyes OT4, leaning on the fanon characterizations of Peter and Elias (although I will be addressing Jonah Magnus and his ritual plans, don't worry). If jonelias is not your jam, this probably won't be either. If, on the other hand, you were disappointed by the lack of romantic payoff for peterjon in the last fic, oh boy do I have good news for you.
> 
> See you next week!


	2. and it's time for us to leave her

It's getting late when Jon finally looks up from his research; he isn't actually late for dinner yet, but if he lets himself get back into his work he will be, and Martin will be upset if he misses their date. He drops his glasses on the desk and rubs at his eyes. He should really make a point of leaving earlier. It isn't as though he's making a point to avoid an empty flat any longer.

He isn't sure what it is that makes him look up again — whatever instinct it is that's kept him alive this long — but Jon looks up just in time to see the last wisps of fog trailing away from Peter's greatcoat. He wishes he's surprised that Peter is able to drop in so easily.

"Peter," he says, resigned. Peter looks - exactly the same, honestly, his hands tucked in his pockets, his face wearing a bland and inoffensive smile. You'd never know that he'd been rather aggressively arrested less than a week ago. "I suppose it was too much to hope that it would take."

"The classism in the British legal system is outrageous," Peter agrees cheerfully. "They're lucky I'm not a danger to the general public."

Jon eyes him skeptically but decides not to argue the point; Peter wouldn't see the irony. "Why are you here?" he asks instead. "It can't be because you missed me."

"No," Peter says, although perhaps not as enthusiastically as he might have. "But you're not far off. No, I came to talk about adjusting the planned schedule. Accelerating it, in fact." If Jon didn't know better, he'd have said that Peter is embarrassed.

Then he frowns. "I could have sworn you were proposing to Elias last time I saw you," he says accusingly.

Peter shifts his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable now, though perhaps it isn't quite embarrassment. It's still more discomfort than Jon has ever seen from the man. "Well. Circumstances have...changed, somewhat."

"Turned you down, did he?" Jon says before he catches himself.

Peter grimaces. "Not this time." He produces, from some inexplicable source, a soft leather folio held together with a twisted cord: the antiquated equivalent of the file folders that fill the rest of Jon's life. "Had a chat with my brother, which - clarified some things."

He continues to hold out the folio until Jon carefully sets his research aside and rises to take it. Jon glances up instinctively to meet his eyes as he lays a hand on it, and to his surprise, he finds Peter looking back at him. The expression on his face is solemn, his usual bland good humor inexplicably absent, and that more than anything is why Jon flips the folio open rather than questioning him further.

It takes him a few minutes to understand what the scattering of documents is telling him. A history of rituals attempted by various members of the Lukas family, and other avatars of the Lonely with different names, makes him raise an eyebrow, but Peter just waves him on. The statement of a survivor of the last ritual attempt by the Stranger is too dense and the handwriting too cramped to make out in a hurry, but Jon finds he knows what it's about anyway, and what the Slaughter did to stop it. Then there's a list of the fates of previous Archivists, which is more immediately interesting, and something that looks like nothing so much as a checklist...

He looks up at Peter sharply enough that the man winces, but he's in no mood to coddle him. "What is this?" Jon demands.

Peter, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere over Jon's shoulder, shrugs. "Nathaniel's rationale, I suppose. Not sure where he got it from - it's not his style, doing all this research - but he's convinced he's figured out what the Eye's ritual looks like." He looks back at Jon, meeting his gaze directly, and it's that as much as anything that convinces Jon of his sincerity. "So am I."

Jon swallows, focuses on relaxing his fingers so that he doesn't destroy the more fragile papers with his grip. He could pretend that he doesn't know - Know - exactly what all this means, but what would be the point? He wouldn't be fooling anyone, least of all himself.

"You're not doing this for my sake," he says, and hates the way his voice shakes.

Peter shrugs. "I certainly don't want to live in a world ruled over by the Eye, and in spite of everything, I don't think you do either. Seems we have a simple way to stop it, though."

"Yes," Jon says slowly, through the increasing sense of dread creeping through his lungs. "Yes, I suppose we do."

* * *

Martin stomps into the Archives in a truly foul mood at half past eight — early enough to be early, not so early that he seems to be making a particular effort. It's not that he's trying to be passive-aggressive, he tells himself, but he doesn't quite believe it until he finds Jon's office empty and admits to himself that he's also worried. It's not exactly that he'd prefer Jon to be kidnapped instead of having stood him up, but it's certainly more familiar emotional territory.

He'd like to complain to someone about it, but Basira is still slightly terrifying, Melanie is likely to be meaner than he really wants to deal with, and Tim has returned to his attempt to figure out just how little work he can do without the Archives making him ill. It's - it's profoundly lonely, actually, in a way that Martin hadn't realized could still dig under his skin in such a profound way.

Well. Someone around here ought to be doing some work, and with Jon absent, there's really only one option. There are a selection of statements on Jon's desk waiting to be recorded, and if it's an excuse to make sure he's in the one place he's guaranteed to see Jon as soon as he shows up, well, that's just a convenient side benefit.

"Ah, Martin. Can I speak with you for a moment?"

Martin thinks he does a very respectable job of not leaping out of his chair in surprise, all things considered; he's been expecting someone to turn up and ask him how his day is getting on, certainly, but he definitely hadn't been expecting Elias. In the six weeks since they'd gotten rid of Peter Lukas - since Martin had gotten rid of Peter Lukas, a fact that he is not yet tired of being proud of - they'd seen very little of the Head of the Magnus Institute. Conjugal visits taking up most of his time, Martin had suggested, mostly to see Jon blush.

But he's here now, not only in the Institute but in the Archives, holding open the door of Jon's office and waiting pointedly for Martin, even though he hasn't responded yet. The familiarity of the scene hits hard, and Martin wonders where Jon is, not for the first time this morning.

Or, honestly, since last night.

"Sorry, Elias," Martin snaps, "Jon's not here –"

"I am aware." His voice is curt, but not condescending as usual; Martin looks at him properly for the first time. Elias looks decidedly displeased, and he's holding a white envelope and letter delicately between thumb and forefinger as if it might bite him if he's not careful. Which, to be fair, it might; you never knew, around here. "I came to speak to you, as a matter of fact. I require accompaniment to an event tomorrow evening, and you seemed like the most reasonable candidate."

Martin goggles at him. "What, because I'm the reason your fiance can't go with you?"

The smile he gets in response is thin, and a little pained. "Quite." The papers in his hand twitch, and Martin's eyes are drawn back to them.

He's going to regret this, he can already tell. "What…" he asks carefully. "What is that?"

"Ah, this." Elias's face smooths back into his usual professional if vaguely smug countenance. "Well, I suppose this is news relevant to you as well." He holds out the card and envelope.

"What?" Martin doesn't move to take it. Elias doesn't say anything more, doesn't move, doesn't blink. "Why do you have to be so cryptic all the time?" Martin snaps finally, snatching the card from Elias's hand. "Is it some kind of 'feeding the Beholding' thing, or are you just a prick?"

Elias raises an eyebrow at that, but Martin doesn't see it. His full attention has been captured by the card. It's printed on heavy, silky-smooth stock, the letters pressed into the paper by an honest-to-god printing press, not a laser printer. _To Your Attention_ , it reads. _The marriage of Peter Lukas and Jonathan Sims, Archivist. This 2nd of June, 2017_. _We regret that your presence at the ceremony was not required._

It's abrupt to the point of rudeness, and Martin can't stop staring at it, as if there's anything else to learn from the scant few words, the heavy cardstock, the cream-colored envelope not nearly battered enough to have suffered the attentions of British Mail. It's an absolute parody of upper-class formality and it would be laughable if it weren't so horrifying.

"Why would—" Martin mutters, racking his brains for something, anything that would approximate an explanation. He glares up at Elias. "If you've framed him for another murder—"

The face Elias makes, part resignation, part dismay, is decidedly less dignified than Martin is used to seeing from him. Martin wonders, not for the first time, just what Elias thinks his relationship with Jon is about. Whatever it is, it's not what Jon thinks (although to be fair, Jon doesn't seem to think about his relationships at all until he's forced to, a fact with which Martin has been made very familiar lately).

"Hardly," Elias says, his voice dry as a bone and unfairly similar to Jon's. "No, I'm afraid he's done it to himself, this time."

Martin considers a variety of responses to this, but he can't settle on anything coherent in time to interrupt Elias's train of thought.

"The timing could have been better, I suppose, although that's hardly the kind of thing I'd expect either of them to take into consideration. The Fairchilds may not be the largest donors to the Institute but they're still far from an insignificant influence." Elias wrinkles his nose. "At the very least he could have given some kind of warning."

"I'm sorry," Martin says, aware that he's on the verge of squeaking and really not concerned enough to do anything about it, "my boyfriend has eloped with your fiance and your first response is to find a replacement date?"

Elias frowns at him as though he's being particularly stupid, which Martin feels is extremely unfair. Just because Elias is used to his partner disappearing with no notice doesn't mean that it isn't weird. What he says, though, is, "I assure you, this is hardly my first response, only the first you've heard of. Will you be available?"

Martin would like to object; after all, he's just had some particularly shocking news, and also he's pretty sure that there's something in the employee handbook about accepting romantic overtures from supervisors. Not, unfortunately, that that particular argument would hold any water with Elias, all things considered.

Besides, he realizes, there's a petty, vindictive part of him that would very much like to do something massively inappropriate in response.

"You know what, fine," he says. "Yes, I'm available."

"Good." Elias looks him up and down thoughtfully. "I'll have a suit made up before tomorrow night."

Martin narrows his eyes at him. "I could have a suit," he says defensively.

"Mmm. Well. Until tomorrow, then." Elias disappears as silently as he arrived, leaving the announcement sitting on the edge of Jon's desk. Martin gives it a dirty look, then drops a stack of statement files on top of it. It almost makes him feel better.


End file.
